


The queries of a lost soul

by ZoenOut



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crowley Questions (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), POV God (Good Omens), Sad, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoenOut/pseuds/ZoenOut
Summary: Crowley's questions are plenty.The important ones are listed here.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The queries of a lost soul

Crowley was always a curious one. Loads of questions, loads of queries. Sometimes I answered, as the time passed I answered less.  
At least not loud enough for them to hear. 

It started before time itself, before creation. When there was just nothing and angels.  
"Why do I know where my body is without seeing it?"  
So you don't get tangled up, my child.  
"What happens if I get tangled up anyways, Lord?"  
Then I won't help you get untangled again.  
"Why not?"  
...

That was the first question I didn't answer.

***

After the creation of heaven.

"Why do I sink through some clouds while I can walk on others, Lord?"  
Because you have weight now, my child.  
"Do I still have weight when I fly?"  
Yes, you do.  
"Why don't I fall then?"  
Because your wings push you up.  
"What would happen if they didn't push me up?"  
...

A lot of ideas were sparked by that question.

"Why do my stars have to die, Lord?"  
So the universe can change, my child.  
"Why does it need to change if I liked it the way it was?"  
Because it's not what you like, it's what I like that matters.  
"Don't you like the stars I create, Lord?"  
I do, my child. But I like change. I might keep some of your stars around forever. The ones that swirl with colors are already changing enough.  
"Thank you."

"Do you know everything, Lord?"  
Yes, my child.  
"Then why don't you answer all questions?"  
Some questions cannot be answered.

"Who will explore the stars I create?"  
No one, my child.  
"Then why should I create them?"  
You should create them in my honor.  
"Why?"  
Because you love me, don't you?  
"I'm supposed to, Lord."

"Why are there some days I only want to sleep?"  
I don't know, what do you think?  
At that point they thought 'But She said She knew everything, didn't She?". But they didn't say that.  
"Why do my eyes get wet sometimes? No other angels experience that, Lord."  
Because you're feeling things, my child.  
"But I don't know what I'm feeling, Lord."  
...  
"Am I supposed to know what I'm feeling?"  
Yes. You're supposed to feel Good, my child.  
"What if I don't feel Good? Is that wrong?"  
...  
"Do you want me to feel Good?"  
Yes, right now you're supposed to feel Good.  
"I'm sorry, Lord."  
Their bright green eyes started filling with water at this point. It flowed down their cheeks in steady streams, all the while they tried desperately to wipe the water away. They started mumbling different versions of 'I'm sorry' and 'I shouldn't'. After a while they turned their back to me and rushed away into the stars.

***

After Adam and Lilith were created.

“Do you have a name for the water coming from my eyes now, Lord?”  
Why do you ask, my child?  
“Because it’s not just me now, Lord. Lilith’s eyes do it too.”  
And why do you know that?  
They looked down at that moment, pursed their lips and began to fidget with their robe.  
“I… I’ve watched them, Lord.”  
And why have you done that?  
“They were screaming at each other. Was I not supposed to look?”  
You weren’t, my child.  
“I’m sorry, Lord.”

Lilith was replaced with Eve and my child questioned even more. 

“Where did Lilith go?”  
She’s asleep until I decide what to do with her, my child.  
“Why can’t she decide?”  
She isn’t meant to.  
“I’m sorry.”  
For what, my child?  
“I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, Lord.”  
Well, are you?  
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

***

The Fall.  
The Fall was just a stream of unanswered questions.

“Why me?”  
“What did I do wrong?”  
“Why won’t you help me?”  
“You don’t love us, do you?”  
“How can you let us suffer like this?”  
“How can you let me suffer like this?”  
“How long will we fall?”  
“Where do we end up in the end?”  
“Do we die?”  
“Can we die?”  
“Why won’t you answer?”  
“Why did you do this?”  
And then there was just ‘why’. 

***

Silence followed. Years and years of silence as Heaven rebuilt and Hell just built. And then there was a spark. I listened in to the conversation above the eastern gate.

“I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyways.”  
And there they were, my child. Burned by sulfur, wings stained black. Grace gone. But they were there.  
And there were questions. Streaming through their head while they talked to principality Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate.  
“Not very subtle of the Almighty though?”  
‘Smite me! Why won’t you just smite me? I’m a demon, you’re an angel, you’re supposed to smite me, that’s what you do! Common, give me what I deserve!’  
The first rain started. Aziraphale heightened his wing.  
‘Why is he shielding me from this? I’m fallen. I shouldn’t be shielded. I don’t deserve it.’  
Little did he know I was whispering to him a thousand times over ‘But you do deserve it, my child. You do.’

***

Noah’s arch.

“What is a rainbow?”  
“Why the kids?”  
“Why them?”  
“How can you be so cruel? They haven’t done anything wrong!”  
“You can fix it, can’t you?”  
“I know you can fix it so why don’t you?”  
“Why won’t you just fix it?”  
“Why do you always ‘fix’ things by spreading suffering?”

***

The crucifixion.

“Why do you always make your children suffer?”  
“What did he do wrong?”  
“Will he go to hell? Please don’t make him go to hell, he doesn’t deserve it!”  
“Why do I feel like I’m burning when he screams?”  
“Why do I care? I’m not supposed to care.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry please… I know I shouldn’t care, I can’t help it, I’m sorry!”  
“Why am I falling all of a sudden?”

***

Saint James’s park, 1862

“How will he react?”  
“Will he see through this?”

“Out of the question!”  
‘Fuck.’  
“I’m not bringing you a suicide pill!”

“How did he know?”  
“What am I saying?”  
“Why do I always have to lie?”  
“Even if it is a suicide pill why won’t he bring it to me?”  
“Fraternizing? Of course, nothing more than fraternizing.”  
“Why does he have to make such a fuss?”

Because he cares about you, my child. That’s why.

***

Eleven years before armageddon was supposed to happen.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Why me?”

Because you’re the only one who wouldn’t succeed, my child. 

“Why won’t he just agree with me on this?  
“Why does the damn angel have to be so stupid sometimes?”  
“Does he want to set the world on fire?”  
“How can I do this by myself? I’m not good enough for that. Well, I’m not good, that’s my whole thing... “

But you are good, my child. Better than you know.

***

“God, you listening?”  
Yes, I say. But of course they can’t hear me. Not yet.  
“You shouldn’t test them to destruction…”  
“Why am I all of a sudden feeling so lost?”

***

I see them in the fire. I hear them screaming and I feel their pain.

“Bastards! All of you!”  
Tears start to stream down their face. Just like in Heaven. But they don't remember that. They only remember that they aren’t supposed to cry, they start wiping their tears away.  
“I’m sorry Aziraphale. I’m sorry I couldn't stop them. I’m useless. Worthless. I’ll never achieve anything on my own.”

“I shouldn’t litter, should I?”  
“What just exploded? Okay now that’s all the proof I needed. Well, aside from the fact I couldn’t even sense him anymore. Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry. You don’t cry. You drink.”

“Is he really here? Am I going mad?”  
“Aziraphale?”  
“Will he be disappointed that I didn’t save his shop? Will he be mad? Oh angel, please don’t be mad at me…”  
“I don’t think I can take anymore. I’m weak angel, can’t you see?”

***

After the little armageddon that wasn’t.  
After the deception.  
In a small cottage.  
Aziraphale is out for the night.  
Crowley is alone.  
Well, alone with their thoughts.

“How did it all go so… so well in the end?”  
Because of you, my child.  
They flinch, no, not just flinch. They fall to the ground, they cover their ears.  
Now there’s no need to be scared, is there?  
They keep their mouth tightly pressed shut. In their mind echoes too many questions and exclamations for them to think.  
“You… You’ve been here the whole time.”  
Oh yes, and I’m quite proud of how you handled it all.  
“No you’re not! You can’t just- You’re not!”  
I can’t What exactly?  
They cower at this. Cower and hide, wings already exposed, already trying to just disappear.  
“Please, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what to do or say, I’m sorry. Please!”  
You can tell me, my child. It’s just that I might not always listen. I’ll ask again, I can’t what?  
They straighten their back a bit. Try to look at me, don’t look at me.  
“You can’t just… Show up after…” They choke on a sob. “After 6000 years and… say you’re proud of me.” They try to wipe their tears away. The ‘sorry’s’ and the apologies are back in their mouth. Oh Crowley, sometimes you look so so small. Do you realize that yourself?  
As I get down on my knees to hold my child they say in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard:  
“Why can’t I hate you?”  
I don’t know, my child. I don't know.

Time passes at just the pace I want it to. At first that is slowly as I hold my child, as I rock them and sing to them. Aziraphale will be home soon when the time goes back to what would be considered normal. And that’s just how I want it to be.  
My child, you have to be helpless every once in a while.  
“I… I don’t want to be helpless.”  
You have to, sometimes you have to be helpless.  
“But…” They stop and look at me, question in their golden eyes. I nod, go on. “Why?”  
You’ll see, I promise you that.  
And then I leave.

Crowley keeps on crying, they sit on the middle of the carpet when Aziraphale comes home. He holds my child, just as I did. He asks and even if Crowley doesn’t answer Aziraphale understands. And he stays.

***

“I’m sorry, Lord.”  
You are forgiven, my child.


End file.
